Drifter
by Unknown Crow
Summary: Tales of a drifter's travels.
1. First Tale: A Town Without Laws

The boots hit the ground, sending a puff of displaced dirt into the air. The traveller inhaled, the arid air assailing her throat.

The small town was on the border, the final stop between Ylisse and Plegia and the commonly used route for the relief caravans that had been flowing from Ylisse into Plegia since the last year.

The traveller stepped into the tavern. The only inhabitant was the barkeep, washing glasses methodically and setting them behind the bar.

"Aye, welcome, stranger," the gruff man said as the traveller sat at the bar and took off her hood. "Bit early for drinks, eh? Well, even so, we're fresh out of spirits."

"No thanks," the traveller muttered, barely audible to the man. "What's the latest news?"

"News, stranger? Not much. Caravans going out underequipped and underdefended as usual," the man said, setting down a clean glass and picking up a dirty one. "If you're lookin' for the latest news from Ylisse, 'fraid you've got the wrong man."

"Doesn't matter," the traveller muttered. "So the caravans are underdefended?"

"They ain't hirin'," the barkeep said, rougher than usual. "Barely have enough for the men they already have to get fed."

"Anything else?"

"Not much. Aye, that's right - got a swordsmanship contest t'morrow," the man said. "You look the type, stranger? Mysterious swordsman travellin' 'round and winnin' competitions. A drifter."

"Something like that," the so-called drifter said.

"Well, stay a while," the man said. "Might find a challenge in some of the locals, eh? Heheheheh."

* * *

The traveller stepped into the rented room above the tavern. She discarded her cloak and let loose the pins that held her hair constrained to just above shoulder length.

Her long blue hair tumbled free.

Lucina inhaled deeply, unsheathing her sword to examine it.

The sword wasn't anything special - it was silver, yes, and she'd had it forged to be better than usual, yes, but nothing truly unique. Using Falchion was out of the question - it raised far too many questions as to why some wanderer had the sword of Ylisse's royal family.

Lucina turned her thoughts to tomorrow and the swordsmanship contest.

* * *

The contest was held in a large barren segment of town that was ready to be built upon but had yet to have any actual work done upon it.

A handful had come out to compete, the rest of the crowd standing in a massive circle, watching.

The announcer was a large man, and he stood perpetually hunched over slightly.

Lucina surveyed her opponents.

Most of the men that had come to compete held swords of bronze or iron - a bit lighter than her blade, and their strength would probably match hers.

But she doubted any of them had been trained as brutally or effectively as her. Despite the eyepatch she wore to conceal her Brand, she would probably have no trouble with anyone in the contest.

She absentmindedly cracked her knuckles as the announcer read out the rules of the contest.

* * *

The announcer shook her hand and gave her the moderately sized bag of gold.

The crowd had begun to disperse save three men, who eyed the young champion carefully. The small ground began to walk in the path of the newly-crowned champion.

"Oi, lad," the leader of the bunch said as Lucina walked away. "Who the 'ell are you?"

"It doesn't matter," Lucina said, turning left and trying to outmaneuver them.

"Well, my boss will think it matters," the man said. "Listen, kid...how'd you like to make a bit of money? Nothing too major, just ransacking a caravan every once in a while, makin' sure they hand over protection money?"

Lucina stopped. "Brigand work?"

"Aye, you've got it. Workin' for the Metzdorffs, real easy money. Whaddya say, lad?"

Lucina unsheathed the silver sword. "I decline."

The man laughed and raised his hand to the hilt of the massive blade he held on his back. "You think jess cause you won the contest, you're some real hot stuff, eh? Boys, let's teach this lad a lesson." His pair of followers nodded and drew their own swords.

Lucina eyed the trio warily as they spread to the left and the right. The ringleader remained in the center, a grin on his face. The man lifted up the two-handed sword and began to swing it straight down.

Lucina smashed the blade aside and made a quick slash at the man. The man looked down at his chest, a thin tear in his shirt and a small cut oozing blood beneath. He looked at his followers and shouted, "Tear 'im apart!"

From the left. Motion. Lucina narrowly deflected the blade and immediately turned to parry the blow coming from the man on the right. The center man had recovered enough to attack and he began to swing wildly forward, his lackeys stepping just barely out of range.

Lucina stepped backwards - the sword was coming in from the right and she held a ready stance, prepared for a strong counter.

The attack slid off her sword and Lucina stepped forward with a massive slash.

The man stumbled backward, a massive wound leaking blood and guts. His hand dropped from his sword and clutched at his stomach, trying in vain to keep his insides inside.

The two other men stepped forward, preventing Lucina from striking the _coup de grâce_.

Lucina's eyes narrowed and she shifted to a lower stance, both hands on the silver sword.

The left man stepped forward with an intense facial expression. His sword came from the left and grazed Lucina's arm as she dodged. His sword came from the right and Lucina bled again, this time on her right arm. The third strike came from the left once again and Lucina parried, sending her sword into the man's chest.

Blood coated silver as she withdrew her blade from the man, his eyes in agony.

From behind, she heard the distinctive sound of footsteps and clapping.

"Excellent show, drifter," a refined voice spoke. "But I am afraid I am going to have to ask you to stop there."

Lucina turned to eye the man. Incredibly short and clad in expensive clothing, with a pair of bodyguards flanking him.

"I am willing to forgive your murdering of two _very_ fine brutes...that is, if you were to do a small task for me." The man took Lucina's cold silence as acceptance and continued on. "This town, sadly, is not home to only my family of merchants, but another. I would like you to assassinate the heir to their empire," the man offered. "And in exchange, I will let you leave alive."

"I won't," Lucina stated firmly.

"Oh? Well, young lad, then you shall have a lesson in Metzdorff hospitality." The man clapped his hands twice and a hooded mage in a dark red cloak emerged from seemingly nowhere.

The mage produced a tome from his cloak - Lucina recognized the cover, it had been one of Robin's favorites, Arcthunder. She rushed forward with her sword at the ready -

Lucina was too late to prevent his casting, and her body flew back onto the dirt, her sword spinning uselessly away from her. Another bolt shook her body. She could hear the short man's hideous laugh as the mage casted the spell repeatedly.

"Out of uses." The voice was quiet and clipped.

"Just leave the lad. He'll die momentarily. Oh - grab his sword, too. Is that silver? This will indeed fetch a high price at the market! Ehehehe!"

The sound of laughter and footsteps faded and her vision blurred and she was soon unconscious.

* * *

Lucina came to in a bed. She recognized the interior as her rented room at the tavern.

"Aye, stranger, don't move a muscle," the barkeep said, walking into the room. "Ye made a mistake, messing with the Metzdorffs. They control the town. Had to do a fair bit of patchin' up on you - looked like you'd come from hell itself."

"They stole my gold," Lucina stated. "And my sword."

"Aye, and you'd be best to leave town," the man stated again, gruffly.

"I need another sword," Lucina said, glaring.

"I hear ya. If it's revenge you seek, then I won't interfere. The blacksmith here makes very fine swords," the man said. "Don't worry about payment. The man owes me a favor, he'll get you a sword. Rest up until tomorrow."

* * *

Lucina stepped into the blacksmith's shop.

"You must be the one the barkeep told me about," the smith said, looking up from his work. He dusted off his hands. "You need a sword, right?"

"Yes," Lucina said. "A longsword, preferably."

"Well, why do you need a sword?"

"The Metzdorffs."

"Just fitting for a drifter," the blacksmith said. "You want to go against them, eh? You've your work cut out for you. They employ the saltiest dogs in Ylisse _and_ Plegia. Yea, this town's on the verge of a slaughter - best it happen now rather than later."

The smith moved to a wall and opened a hidden compartment. Carefully, he retrieved a sword from the wall.

"'Bout time someone shows them the way of the world," he'd said, handing her the sword. "This is second only to silver, and light steel - but not brittle, either. This is the finest sword I have ever made. If you should meet the Fell Dragon himself on the field of battle, then you shall emerge victorious."

"Thank you," Lucina said.

* * *

First - the eldest son.

The son had just reached maturity and was being prepared to get married off to a high-class family in Ylisstol.

The man was holding a massive party for the scant few wealthy in town. The Metzdorff manor was about a mile out of town and it was massive.

Lucina walked in, hair down and eyepatch temporarily discarded.

The formalities of upper-class social life had never been particularly drilled into her, unlike these people, but she'd been taught the basics during her brief journey with the Shepherds thanks to a certain blonde-haired girl with drill-like hair.

And so it was that she was able to sneak into the party without attracting suspicion.

The eldest son's name, she'd been told, was Julius Metzdorff, and he was the finest swordsman in town.

She was sitting at a table, watching the man socialize with guests.

The man made his rounds, talking to everyone, and then walked into an adjacent dining room, a handful of men following him, a pair of bodyguards following the party.

Lucina quietly followed.

* * *

The men were socializing over a bit of alcohol and food, loud and rambunctious. Julius sat at the head of the table, his sword leaning up against his chair. He smiled as his friends laughed and cheered, and he sipped a little wine.

One of the men stood up and declared his intent to make love with one of the women out there that night. This was met with some cheering and spilling of alcohol.

He opened the door and was face to face with a certain drifter. He barely felt the sword slide into his stomach, and he was dead before he even hit the floor.

One of the two bodyguards yelled and drew a sword - Lucina quickly moved in on the man, sending her sword up from his leg all the way to his shoulder.

The other bodyguard was in shock and barely had time to react to the strike coming in from the right. He toppled to the ground and Lucina turned to the duelist at the head of the table.

The man stood up and unsheathed a long, thin rapier.

"Drifter," he stated simply. "My father was of the notion that you died."

"It'll take a lot more than that to kill me," Lucina said.

"Let our conversation be through our swords," Julius said, pulling the tablecloth off the table, the food and drink spilling onto the floor. He stepped up onto the table and held a fencing stance.

"Let's." Lucina leapt upward and landed on the table. She mirrored his stance.

He stepped forward with a thrust and Lucina parried.

Lucina smiled through the next exchange of blows and parries. She recognized the man's skill - it had to be at least equal to her own skill in fencing.

She stabbed forward with an attack and the man narrowly dodged, the sword clipping his expensive clothing. He quickly came back, putting her on the defensive.

The man smirked as he thrusted a killing blow - seemingly to the left of the chest but quickly switching to the right.

Lucina twisted her sword in a circle to catch the attack, quickly counterattacking with her own jab straight to the chest.

Julius's eyes grew wide and then narrowed. "Haha...not bad," he said, his blood beginning to coat Lucina's steel. He slid off the blade and laid on the table. "Who are you?"

"My name is Lucina," the drifter said.

The man raised his left arm and made a fist, holding it to his heart. "You were...a splendid opponent." The man went limp, his eyes rolling backwards.

Lucina carefully closed the duelist's eyes.

"Big Bro..." The boy standing in the doorway was no more than ten. He looked from the dead body to the killer.

Lucina turned to face the boy, sword already drawn.

The guards were quick to get in the way, and one carried the boy off while a pair engaged her.

"You killed my younger brother," one of them said.

"If you're feeling bitter about it, then I'm right here," Lucina stated.

The man's head-on axe attack was met with a quick deflect and Lucina immediately parried the sword coming from the left, lightly stabbing its source and moving onto the axe wielder. She attacked once and the man was able to block. She attacked twice and the man could still block. The third attack, however, was too fast and the man's shirt was torn. The fourth attack was even quicker and his chest was bloodied. Five attacks and the man was dead.

The swordsman had recovered and Lucina nearly deflected his first attack, dodging the second and coming in with a massive counter while he was following through.

The man keeled over and his blood spilled out over the carpet.

Lucina looked at the wound. Nothing major. She ran along, looking for the head of the family.

* * *

The head of the family was sitting in his study, reading. The mage in the red cloak was standing to his left, guarding him.

Lucina opened the door, the very action announcing her presence to the entire room.

"Drifter," Metzdorff said.

"Metzdorff," the drifter said.

"There will be no escape this time," the man said, clapping. The mage stepped forward, producing an Arcthunder tome.

"Not this time," Lucina said, dashing forward.

The man narrowly dodged the attack coming straight out of dash and he blocked the next series of blows with a Levin Sword produced from his cloak.

Lucina's eyes widened in recognition of the man's fighting style.

The man's Levin Sword cut into her, sending electricity throughout her body. She bore through the pain and dodged the next pair of attacks.

The swordswoman ducked underneath the man's Arcfire spell and parried the man's overhead blow. She took her left hand off her sword and delivered a solid punch to the man's face.

The hood toppled from the man's head and Lucina's eyes narrowed.

"Robin..."

"That name," the man muttered as he stood. "That name..."

The guards were at the door already, and it seemed like they had called in the entire security force to get her.

Lucina looked around the room for an escape option before seeing an opportunity.

The Future Princess of Ylisse dove through the study's window, fell several meters, and landed on the dirt.

The fall was a fair bit high than she'd been expecting and a few shards of glass had stabbed into her on landing. Her previous injuries, the glass, and the impact left her in a great deal of pain, more than most could bear to take.

Somehow, through willpower or some sheer insanity, Lucina was back on her feet in a moment and running away.

* * *

Her trek back into town was done in complete darkness with her ears open for pursuing guards.

Through this, somehow, she felt a bizarre sense of nostalgia for the time she'd spent hiding from packs of Risen in Ferox, years and years ago.

The town's scarce light came into view and she hurried along the path, the blood loss already taking its toll on her body.

She snuck back into the bar, past the drunken men, up the stairs, and into her room.

Her bag. Medical supplies.

She threw open the bag, the lightheartedness beginning to show itself. She rummaged through the pockets before pulling out the medical supplies. She uncorked the elixir and drank the entire bottle in one dose.

* * *

Lucina awoke to the sound of the bird's song.

It was home. The palace in Ylisstol. Her bedroom.

She pulled open her bed's drapes and stepped out. She carefully made her way to the library, aware that few were awake at so early an hour.

The library was always slightly dusty from the man who read in there. Always different tomes, but perpetually thick and filled with knowledge. This was a man she'd known for quite a while.

The man was her father's best friend, after all.

She scooted out the chair across from the reading man and rested her head on her hand.

"Good morning, Lucina," the man said, glancing upward from the book on strategies and effective unit organization. "Nightmares?"

Lucina nodded.

"There is a way to end the nightmares," he said.

Lucina looked down to her lap and looked back up.

The man's hood was up now and two sinister red eyes glared at her.

"Kill me. Kill me now."

The table was gone and she was standing. The Fell Dragon was standing, too, but Lucina couldn't stop thinking of the man and how he always had a kind word and how he always was there for her father and his friends and how he always comforted her after her nightmares woke her in the dead of night.

The Falchion was in her hands again and she was stabbing, stabbing, wanting to end the horrors of her childhood and she was stabbing remembering how many had died and stabbing and those _weren't red eyes anymore they were Robin's kind ones and she couldn't stop killing him -_

* * *

"Another nightmare," Lucina said, both eyes wide open. She rose from the bed, her body aching.

"Long night?" The barkeep asked as she emerged from her room.

"Longer than I'd have liked," she said. "What do you know about Metzdorff's mage? The one in the red cloak."

"The Metzdorffs and all their men arrived as the town was built, but that man didn't arrive with them," the barkeep said. "He only appeared a slight while ago, and nobody knows where he came from - only that he's already proven he's the deadliest of their bunch."

"Nothing else?"

"Aye, stranger, if I had something else, I'd 'ave told ya."

* * *

Lucina stepped out of the bar and was immediately met with a challenger.

"My name is Kenneth Metzdorff and you killed my brother. Ready yourself for a duel," the dark haired man said.

Lucina gave him a nod and drew her sword.

Something in her doubted her skill with her injuries and desperately wished for the man to not duel her at that very moment.

The sun was blazing high in the sky as the pair prepared to duel. Lucina had chosen the blacksmith's steel while her opponent had chosen a long, ornate rapier that Lucina immediately gauged as imbalanced and completely impractical.

The pair were between three and four meters apart. Lucina gave the man a quick duelist's salute with her sword and the man frantically attempted to copy.

The man stepped forward with a pale imitation of a lunge and was thwarted by Lucina taking a single step backwards.

He moved forward a pair of paces and attempted a shorter stab but Lucina knocked the sword aside.

The man quickly attempted some elaborate move but his sword ended up too short and Lucina just hacked off the blade from the hilt.

"Get out of here," she said.

He scurried away in shame.

* * *

The mage in the red cloak was in turmoil.

"Robin. Robin," he repeated, pacing back and forth in the dimly lit cellar. "Who is Robin?" His fist smacked into the wall.

"The drifter. She knows. She knows who I am," he muttered. "I will face her again. And then...I will know."

* * *

The next day was hotter than usual. Thanks to liberal usage of medicine, Lucina's wounds had almost completely healed. And so she left the tavern to take care of the remainder of her business in the town.

That is to say, she took her sword and a pair of medicinal concoctions to the sole manor on the hill.

The security at the Metzdorff manor had increased drastically.

This time, however, Lucina did not bother with stealth, she did not bother with infiltration, and she walked right up to the gate and fought the guard.

The man went down without a fight, his surprise at an attacker evident on his face.

The gate was easy enough to scale and Lucina was on the Metzdorff grounds.

The guards were approaching now and Lucina could see at least two dozen men, all armed with swords or axes.

The blue-haired girl drew her sword, the very sight of the blade forcing some to step back. She carefully moved around, ensuring a circle of free movement for herself.

The area before the manor was clear of obstacles like rocks or roots to trip on. There were no boulders to climb on or ruins to dance around. Just flat land and the swords of two dozen men.

Lucina stepped forward and slashed. Twenty three.

* * *

Metzdorff was on the porch, observing the carnage as it unfolded. The red-cloaked mage stood behind him, barely able to contain his excitement at the drifter's return.

His existence of questions would be over shortly.

Metzdorff scoffed as the drifter grew bloodier and bloodier.

"What a fool to come back here. Mage, once these brutes are dead, I want you to kill the fool. And I shouldn't have to tell you...make it hurt."

The drifter parried and danced, her sword flashing in the hot midday sun.

Within moments the guards lay dead or close enough to it and the mage stepped forward.

Lucina held a ready position, her left hand reaching to her belt and fishing out a healing concoction. She uncorked it and downed it in one swallow, tossing the bottle behind her.

"Robin..."

"Who is Robin?" The man asked.

Lucina's eyes narrowed. "You have no memory?"

The man gritted his teeth and nodded.

"You..." Lucina muttered.

"You know who I am," the man said. He pulled out a trio of tomes and tossed them to the ground. The Levin Sword came out, shimmering in the heat.

"Do you know who you are?"

"No," the man said. "All I know how to do is fight."

The man dashed forward, sword coming in quick for a stab.

Lucina ran at him and swung an overhead blow. He immediately blocked, the edge of her blade smashing the flat of his blade.

She tried again, the sword coming in from the lower right and he blocked it again, this time more narrowly than before.

"Robin," she said. "Your name is Robin."

The man's brow furrowed in a mix of confusion and anger and he tried for a slice but Lucina locked their blades.

"You served my father, Chrom, during the wars Ylisse fought against Plegia and Valm," she said to the double amnesiac, eyes and blades locked.

The man's expression intensified and Lucina could see something awakening behind his eyes.

Lucina parried every slash and stab the man made but made none of her own.

"Do you remember my father?"

The mage's face was covered in sweat and he swung the sword parallel to the ground.

Lucina dodged under the swing but the next hit clipped her shoulder. The amnesiac came in for a wide blow but Lucina parried and stabbed the man in the shoulder. The man sunk to his knees and he supported himself on his sword.

Lucina pulled her sword from the man and looked down at him.

"Do you remember?"

Robin looked up at her, eyes clear. "Lucina..."

Metzdorff watched in horror as the man collapsed.

"Now, now, I'm s-sure there's s-some agreement we c-can work out on," he stuttered out as Lucina walked up to him. He stepped backwards and fell, hurriedly scrambling away on all fours.

He hit up against a wall and whimpered as the angel of death descended.

* * *

The man with the silver pauldron stepped off the relief carriage that he'd been riding and onto the dirt.

The rumors had been flowing out of the town that a drifter had been in town and had put down a brigand organization of some sort. The reports were fresh and the man had set off immediately once he heard the drifter's description - a woman with blue hair and unparalleled skill with a sword.

The tavern was busy, its patrons loud and rambunctious. The man went unrecognized as he found an open seat at the bar, next to a hooded man in a dark cloak.

"Welcome, stranger," the barkeep said. "Whaddya havin'?"

"Nothing," the man said. "I'm looking for someone who's been through here - a woman with blue hair who wields a sword."

"Aye, stranger, if I knew where she was, I'd tell you - she left town a few days ago."

"Thank you." The man rose from his seat and turned.

"Chrom," the man in the dark cloak said. "I know where she's going."

"That voice..."

Robin stood up and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I'm back."


	2. Second Tale: In Pursuit Of The Fox

"Where life had no value, death, sometimes, had its price.

That is why the bounty killers appeared."

— _For A Few Dollars More_

It had seemed, initially, an ordinary day with very little business to be done for the armorer.

"Good morning," the armorer said, greeting the three men that had entered his shop.

The trio did not respond.

"Anything in particular? I've got all types of swords, lances, axes, bows, even some old tomes if you're inclined...?"

"Axes," the grey-haired leader ground out. Before the armorer had a chance to move, the other two had drawn weapons, one holding a shortsword and the other grasping a hand axe.

"Axes," the armorer muttered, moving toward the collection of axes. Slowly, he laid each before the men, sweat dripping down his brow.

"This one," the leader said, hefting a massive axe. "You'll have to take credit. Put it under the name 'Renard'."

"Right," the armorer said. "It's no p-problem..."

One of the men stepped forward and delivered a solid blow to the armorer's stomach.

"Let's move," Renard said. "To White Rocks we ride, boys."

* * *

It was, unusually, raining in the Plegian desert.

The horse trotted a little further onward, its rider looking over her surroundings with a hard gaze. It was another town: White Rocks, or so the sign claimed. Small, from what she could see. She spurred the horse onward into the town proper.

The local tavern was crowded. She pushed past a couple of men before stepping up to the only open seat at the bar.

"Evening, miss," the bartender growled. "You new around here?"

The rider nodded before pulling her blue hair out of the ponytail it'd been in.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll get out soon." The bartender filled a glass and handed it to her. "There's a vicious killer in these parts, and he leads a gang of bloodthirsty murderers. Only reason he doesn't hassle this town more is, well, there ain't much more to give."

The rider took a long sip of the drink. "Bounty?"

"Don't make me laugh. He's an old war hound. You couldn't dream of killing him."

"Bounty?"

The bartender gave a short, bark-like laugh. "You've got guts. He's worth ten thousand gold. His name is Renard. Wields an axe." The bartender stopped for a moment, thoughtful. "Fought in more wars than you, I'd wager."

The rider was silent.

"Well, stranger, let me give you one piece of advice before you charge headlong into a fool's battle." The bartender passed a drink to a man to the rider's left. "Of course, with a price of ten thousand, there'll be competition. You ever hear of Red?"

"Red?"

"Red. Only name given. Been tearing a long trail of kills across Ferox and into Plegia. They're in the area, or so rumor has it, collecting on some small time bandit gang."

"Thanks for the warning. Is there a room open?"

"Here," the bartender said, plucking a key from under the bar and passing it to the rider. She turned to leave.

"Didn't catch your name," the bartender growled. "Unless you want me to call you 'stranger' all the time."

"The name's Lucina," the rider said.

* * *

"There's your gold," the man said, tossing the coins on the counter. "Two thousand for the bunch, and five hundred for the leader."

The red-haired woman slid the money off the counter into her waiting hand. "There's another," the woman said. "Right?"

"Right," the man said. "Renard. Ten thousand, assuming you can make it before anyone else."

"Ten thousand's a lot of money. I'll have to earn it." The woman turned to leave.

"Just a moment. I need something for the register. Just a small formality."

"Call me Red," the woman said.

* * *

The old man exhaled a puff of smoke. "Red's vicious. Ruthless. I hear she tracked a man for a week before killing him."

Lucina nodded. "Anything else?"

"She rides a pegasus," the man said. "Nobody knows how she found one. Some say she was a deserter."

Lucina leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Then to the second point of business," she said, sliding a pair of gold coins across the table. "Renard."

"There's no one so vicious in Plegia," the man said. "Problem is, he doesn't like to fool around with small time jobs. You're in luck if you want to find him, though." The old man grinned. "One more?"

Lucina slid a coin across the table.

The man's expression became slightly more excited. "There's a caravan. It's bound for the capitol, you see, and loaded with bullion. There is no doubt that he'll go right for it. It'll pass through here tomorrow. Or so they say."

Lucina began to rise, before the man stopped her.

"That woman at the bar," he said. "The one in the green poncho."

"I see her," Lucina said. "What about her?"

"That's Red," the man said.

* * *

"Funny you should ask about Renard," the bartender said. "Someone asked about him just a few minutes ago."

Red leaned forward. "Really?"

"Yes," the bartender said, subtly gesturing behind the bounty hunter. "The one with blue hair, with the old man."

Red turned around, eyes snapping to the youth the barkeep had indicated.

Across the room, the other bounty hunter had done the same thing.

The tavern quieted for a moment as the two examined each other. The seconds seemed to drag on before the two broke eye contact.

The tavern's patrons resumed their usual behaviour and, in the corner of her eye, Red saw the other hunter walk upstairs.

"Seems like a dangerous one, if you ask me," the bartender said.

"Indeed," Red said.

* * *

The next morning was marked by the sound of cavaliers arriving in town. Lucina carefully observed their arrival from the window of her room. They were escorting a large carriage drawn by a quartet of horses.

"The caravan," she whispered.

"Don't move," a voice said from behind her. Lucina felt the cold touch of steel to her neck. "You're after Renard."

"I am," Lucina growled. "Red?"

"That's me. I'm here to offer you a deal. Get out of town. One thousand gold."

"And if I were to decline?"

"Then you'd have one more killer working against you," Red said.

Lucina slowly turned to look at Red. "What if I did you one better?"

"And that would be?"

"We work together. Split the bounty, five for me, five for you, plus equal shares of however much the rest of Renard's gang is worth."

"A partnership," Red said.

"His gang is twenty strong," Lucina said. "Between us, it's ten each. Otherwise you're looking at one against twenty-one."

"You can pull your own weight?"

Lucina nodded.

"I like those odds," Red said, swinging the green poncho's front up and over her shoulder to reveal a set of battered pegasus knight armor. "Now, I notice you looking at that caravan down there. Don't tell me...?"

"Bait," Lucina said.

"I like the way you work." Red stepped toward the window and peered down at the soldiers.

* * *

At night, the sole light in the town was a handful of burning torches held by the few caravan guards posted to keep watch.

From the rooftop, Red looked down at the caravan and back at her partner.

Lucina was reclining, eyes closed. She opened one eye and looked back at Red. In a low voice, she asked, "Why did you become a bounty hunter?"

"No particular reason," Red responded. "I had no money and I could kill."

"Your armor," Lucina said. "Were you ever a pegasus knight?"

"I was. Four or five years back." Red glanced east. "There's someone riding out there."

* * *

"Alright," Renard shouted. "Take the caravan! Don't bother with the townsfolk lest they try and fight!"

Nineteen men shouted in a cacophony of agreement.

They descended on the cavaliers.

The townsfolk did not stir from their homes.

* * *

From the roof, the pair of bounty hunters watched.

"It's a slaughter," Lucina whispered. "We have to—"

"No," Red muttered. "You'd end up just like them."

Lucina rose. "You can't expect me to stand by as innocent—"

Red stood, stepping toward Lucina. "These men are killers, and there are twenty of them. They would flay either of us alive."

Lucina looked down for a moment.

"Listen," Red began. "There is little justice that roams the badlands. Don't waste your life."

Below them, the bandits had assembled into a quasi-caravan and the carriage rolled into the darkness.

"Now...we ride," Red said, watching them leave.

* * *

Dawn was breaking, and the riders had yet to stop their pursuit of the bandit gang. They had come a long way from the town of White Rocks, and the sandy desert had given way to craggy mountains.

"They're getting tired," Red shouted from the back of her pegasus. "They're headed right for a town — Blackwater, if memory serves."

"And your plan?"

"Follow me and everything will work out."

* * *

Lucina recognized the carriage parked outside the Blackwater saloon, but the chest of gold was conspicuously missing.

"Remember," Red muttered as they walked in. "Follow me, and don't say a word."

"Right," Lucina whispered.

The saloon was crowded, but not with locals. The bandit gang were the only patrons there; everyone else had fled at the sight of the feared outlaws, save a meek bartender.

"Evening," Red said, sitting at the bar next to Renard. She looked up at the bartender. "Something to drink, please?"

Renard took a drink. Slamming the empty mug down, he glared at Red. "Who do you think you are?"

Red smirked. "The one who can open that chest of gold, of course."

Lucina's eyes widened.

Renard ran a hand through greying hair. "What chest?"

"From the caravan. You got there ahead of me," Red said. "I can open the chest. I know my way around locks better than any Plegian. And that chest was touted as being nigh-unbreakable."

"What's your offer?"

"A small share," Red said. "Perhaps the chance for me and my friend to join your gang?"

* * *

Ten minutes later, behind the saloon, the chest was opened. It was filled with gold, and Renard immediately shut it.

"Everybody listen up," Renard said to his gathered bandits. "If any of you dirty cheaters try and steal this gold, then none of you will get an ounce of it. Mark this. We're not leaving this town for a good while, so get used to waiting."

Renard took the chest in his arms and carted it off.

* * *

It was late at night, but the pair of bounty hunters were still awake.

"This is suicide," Lucina said, as the pair crept up the stairs.

"Keep quiet," Red muttered.

The pair slowly opened the door to Renard's room. It was pitch black, and the bed was empty.

"Odd. Get the chest and let's get out."

Lucina grabbed the chest from underneath the bed. "Got it. Sure this plan will work?"

"Of course. The gang will tear itself apart looking for the thieves," Red said.

A lantern lit up the room. "Hello," Renard said. "I should have known you no-good bounty killers would try something."

* * *

Red fell against the low wall. A jolt of pain racked her as the man kicked her stomach.

To her left, Lucina was getting pummelled as well. What little defense she could put up was quickly broken.

"Hold," Renard said. "Tie them up and toss them in the stable." He turned to the rest of his men. "Now, this should be a lesson to all of you. These two never once begged for mercy, and I can respect that in a man. If I should find one of you has betrayed me, begging will do no good. For their determination, I feel that they have the right to my mercy, just this once."

Red felt herself being lifted up. She could faintly feel someone binding her hands together with a ragged cloth of some kind.

She slowly slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

"Hey, you awake yet?"

Red's eyes snapped open.

Every part of her body hurt. She was sitting against the wall of an empty stable. And her hands were tied behind her back.

"Oh, good," Lucina said, voice low. "You're awake."

"Yeah, I am," Red ground out. "Damn it."

"Well, at least we're not corpses rotting in a ditch." Lucina looked at the ceiling and then back at Red. "Why did you stop being a pegasus knight?"

Red closed her eyes a moment. "It was four years ago. The war against Gangrel. My unit was quickly rising in the ranks of the Knights. We'd been sent on a mission into the Plegian heartlands."

"We were ambushed." Red opened her eyes. "That day, I was forced to watch as they killed my sisters. And then they left me in the open desert, nothing around but sand for miles and miles. When I returned to Ylisse, the war was over. I resigned and began drifting around. What about you?"

"I was sent back in time from a ruined future to prevent Grima from rising to power," Lucina said.

"If you didn't want to share, you could have just said so."

Lucina laughed. "You wouldn't happen to have a way out of this mess?"

"Well," Red muttered. "You tied up as good as I am?"

"Knot's pretty tight," Lucina said. "I think I'd need a knife."

"Same here." Red looked up. "I've got one tucked in my boot."

Red flopped over onto her side. Carefully, she slid her hands down as she moved her legs up, and narrowly passed her legs through her arms.

"That's a neat trick," Lucina said.

"I've done this before," Red said. "You have to get your hands in front before you can do anything really tricky."

"That why you keep a knife in your boot?"

"Yeah. I don't want to make the same mistake twice." By now Red had retrieved the knife from her boot. "Get over here. I think it'd be easier if I did you first."

Lucina shifted around so that Red could get at the bindings. Before long, she was free, and soon Red was as well.

"Let's find those bandits," Lucina said.

* * *

The pursuit was easy. They'd gone east out of town, or so the saloon owner had attested, and a set of smouldering campfires guided them closer and closer. Soon, they'd located the gang's hideout — a cave tucked in the side of a canyon.

Lucina eyed the cave's mouth with a fair bit of trepidation. "How do you want to approach this?"

"Loudly," Red said, dismounting. "I'll lead."

Red and Lucina entered the cave. They passed through the entrance and into what seemed to be the central cavern.

The gang was surrounding a table, where two men were engaged in, from the yells and shouts, what Lucina guessed was a drinking contest.

"Renard!"

The shout echoed through the cavern.

"You," Renard said, emerging from the crowd. "I thought the beating we gave you would be enough warning for you fools." He nodded to his men.

At once, three of the gang charged them.

Red held firm while Lucina stepped slowly to the right.

The first one attacked Red, his axe coming in from the left. Red dodged backward, lance narrowly missing the man. Again she thrust and this time she managed to graze his stomach. In his pain he instinctively recoiled and Red went for a finishing blow.

At once the second was upon Lucina, his curved sword a blur in his hands. She attacked, he parried. She stepped back and forth, in and out of range, slowly twirling her own sword to disguise its intended path of movement. The man leapt forward with a strike and Lucina slipped sideways, her sword cutting him down with ease.

The third ducked in and out of Red's range, his shortsword gleaming in the torchlight. Red sliced at his foot, the spear clipping him and toppling his form. Her second strike was aimed at the man's chest.

"Tear them apart," Renard yelled, and the sixteen gang members left descended upon the pair.

Lucina dashed right, drawing about half the group toward her. Red edged left and her group surrounded her.

As they did so, Renard retreated deeper into the cave.

As her half surrounded her, Lucina carefully kept them at a distance with the threat of her sword. With a flash, she struck at a man, her sword cleaving into his side. She pulled it out and parried the blow coming from behind, and with a thrust, she stabbed that man's exposed chest.

She barely pulled the sword from the man's chest when another bandit gave a yell and attempted to cleave her in two — she braced her sword to catch the blow in a parry and launched into a counterattack, sword ripping through the man's torso.

She felt pain as a sword clipped her shoulder, and she turned, blade striking the man's heart. Another attacker stepped forward, and Lucina narrowly stumbled back away from his strike. He stepped closer, and Lucina quickly gave him a slash from stomach to head.

As his corpse fell Lucina moved toward the next, who was quickly advancing, iron sword at the ready. She chopped the iron off close to the hilt and stabbed the man. Her strike was off center, she noted as she shoved the man backwards with her boot.

She turned, blade whirling around, and chopped the surprised bandit behind her down. The last two seemed afraid, now, as she advanced toward them slowly, with catlike tread.

One of them visibly swallowed and rushed her. His swordwork, Lucina mentally critiqued, was solid. He had footwork, but his strikes were sloppy. She parried a couple blows, drawing backward. With a sudden explosion of movement, she pierced his defense and smashed through his chestplate.

She turned, sword twirling.

The last one shut his eyes and charged. His axe strike was a bit too high, and Lucina barely had to duck to dodge it. She chopped him down.

Across the cave, Red had just finished with her group.

"I only had seven," she yelled. "You get my missing attacker?"

"Yes," Lucina said, counting the corpses.

* * *

They found Renard at the back of the cave, next what could have been a bed, once, and what seemed to be their stash of gold.

He seemed almost resigned to his fate, Lucina noted as they approached.

Red spoke first: "Do you remember me?"

"No," Renard said plainly. "I don't dwell on the past."

"Dwell on this," Red muttered, sending her lance through his kneecap. "Four years ago. Plegia. You killed my comrades and abandoned me in the desert."

Renard glared as he lay on the ground.

"When you've waited so long to find a man, it's a shame — you can only kill him once," Red said, unsheathing her knife. "This is for my sisters, you bastard."

* * *

The blue-haired man leaned forward in his seat. "This the town?"

"Yeah," the carriage driver said. "This is your stop. Blackwater."

The white-haired man's eyes narrowed as the pair disembarked. "Somehow, I get the feeling we're late," he said, looking over at his companion.

"Well, let's ask around," the other man said.

The pair entered the saloon. "H-hello," the bartender said. "Anything to drink?"

"Do you know a girl with hair like his?" the white haired man asked quietly. "The blue hair specifically, probably carrying a sword?"

"Yes," the bartender said pointing at the saloon's single other customer. "Ask her."

The red-haired woman was absentmindedly swirling the dregs of her drink.

"That's an interesting garment," the blue-haired man said. "Is it foreign?"

The woman looked up. "You...Ylissean, right? And your friend is Plegian."

"We're looking for a woman," the white-haired man said. "Blue-haired, like Chrom here. Around my age. Good with a sword, if that helps."

"Lucina, right?"

The pair nodded in unison.

"What's it to you?"

"It's a family matter," Chrom said. "Do you know where she went?"

"West," the red-haired woman said. "Past that, I don't know."

"Gods," Chrom muttered. "Robin, why does this keep happening?"

"The gods must hate you," Robin said.


End file.
